DISTORTION BNHA OC
by TheWordPhoenix
Summary: It's scary just how warped one person's mind can get. It's scary how nobody notices. A journey of a person to an emotion to a person. (SUMMARY UNDER WORK)
1. Prologue

Prologue

What they did didn't matter, did it? Akira could always picture her father standing over a long operation table, pulling on those gloves, stretching them over his skin, flexing his fingers and standing over the patient with a small discreet smile.

_Father helps people._

That smile meant everything. Everything will be all right. You will feel no pain. It will all be over in a minute.

_Father makes things easier for them._

She could picture the scalpel inside the gaping wound, soft mechanical sounds. Her father would stand, his black eyes deep and endless and the patient would look curiously at the operation.

_Father takes away all their pain._

Even when the bright lights were dim and the room was not white but dingy, and the patient bubbled and frothed in a tube of green liquid as the barrage of power grew and grew and grew.

_All their pain. Even when it is too much._

An image, searing into her brain. Father's guts lay splattered over the street, everywhere but inside him. His glasses, crooked on his nose, bloody. His body looked like it had been taken apart to be put together and someone, somewhere, had forgotten.

_I want to help people too._


	2. 1 A Tall Shadow

CHAPTER ONE | A Tall Shadow

"**What do I seek to build? **

**No, you're totally right…**

**All I can do… is destroy."**

_**-Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko**_

A week. One week after the officers came home, and Akira turned up on her mother's doorstep. Her clothes were clean, her hair trimmed, her smile wide. She would shake off the police's questions with just one phrase. "I just… wanted to find out."

"And what did you find out?" The inspector coaxed.

"Nothing. Nothing that I shouldn't have." And she would turn away, tucking some of her wild hair behind her ear.

Sometimes her mother would walk out of her room after minutes of hushed whispering on the telephone, and see her little pale girl standing as still as a ghost, ear pressed against the door, her black eyes sparkling. She was ten, and she frightened the wits out of her mother. Her mother would scold, but Akira wouldn't stop eavesdropping, padding around like a cat and intruding upon secret conversations.

After all, Akira loved to listen. The quiet hum of the world thrumming beneath her fingertips felt like something she could control. Control, unlike the pitter-patter of little feet which ran circles around inside her head.

A week. One week after the officers came home, Akira went to school. The dull buzzing of whispers hovered near her, surrounding her mind, her ears, yet never inside her. She walked in, a dull smile on her face, and sat herself at her desk. The pink-haired boy next to her swallowed, and then edged his seat away from her. Akira blinked, and let the whispers surround her.

"Yoshiyuke's always been a little crazy."

"Should have known. But her father was so so respected and all you know? Can't believe he..."

"Was a villain?"

Akira turned around in her seat slowly, the smile still plastered on her face. "What did you say?"

"Uh, nothing… Yoshiyuke, just..."

Her eyes stung. "My father? He-"

"Helps people? Shut up!" Kaito drawled from across the room. Thin silver strands danced from his fingertips. Akira drew in a sharp breath. "I've heard your stupid descriptions of your father, _Akira_, and before- I might have been inclined to believe them? But now?" He smirked. "Well, let's just say- a villain's spawn? You should be happy they don't throw you out of this school right now."

Akira opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut. What did she know? At any moment, she would wake up and this would just be another dream. So she just smiled at her blue-haired best friend and then looked back at the table.

Father was a good man. He was the best. He was not- could not be dead.

She was sitting at the table, the newspaper in her lap. The words blurred in front of her. Her mother gazed at her, quiet. Akira looked up at her, tears streaming down her face, her lips pinched into a thin smile.

"Why-why did you- what is this?" she asked. Her mother paled and opened her mouth.

"I know you admired your father," she started, and then blinked. A shining tear traced its path down her cheek.

"Y-yeah.." Akira said shakily. "I love him. Don't you?"

Her mother choked. "He was… he was bad, Akira. He did this to us. He wanted to use his filthy quirk too much, even against the laws set by the government. You-"

"Isn't the government bad?" Akira asked, tilting her head to one side. This was something she had picked up over the long dinner table conversations, something she parroted. Her mother gasped guiltily and shook her head.

The child gazed incredulously at her. "They hate Father. They hate us." she paused, and her tone became accusatory. "You don't love Father." The words tasted foul in her mouth.

"Me- I don't love- of course, I don't! Father is bad, Akira! And he is dead, gone, leaving us here. Your father is not here anymore because he was killed by the villains!"

"Then it's your fault Father died. You didn't love Father so he went to the villains because he was loved there. Maybe I didn't love Father enough for two of us!"

"You- Akira, tell me. If the villains liked Father, would they have killed him?"

_Would they?_

"_Stay home Father, don't go!"_

"_Akira, you know I have to go to work!"_

"_Okay."_

Okay. One word. Two syllables. Too much regret.

The villains. The heroes. She hated the villains.

_**One year later**_

"I believe a lot of you are turning twelve this year right? That's just, let me see- three years before you apply to high school!" The professor smiled warmly. "Tell you what- I'm pretty interested in what you want to become! I mean- nothing's too early right?"

And so the roll call began. The children muttered excitedly as each student got up and explained their aspirations. Needless to say, most of them wanted to become heroes. A couple more occupations were thrown around, but by the end, Akira had decided. To blend in, she would just choose the most common option, the one that invoked the least reaction.

"What about you, Yoshiyuke?"

Akira stood up, her black curls falling in front of her eyes. _Lawyer. _ Her bitten nails fidgeted nervously behind her back.

"Um well… I want to be-"

"A villain?" A hushed whisper behind her proclaimed. She whipped around. Her? A villain? No, she wanted to murder the ones who had led her father to his death, trail their entrails onto the floor, make everything drip with blood that crawled.

"I want to be a hero," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

The class giggled nervously. The eleven-year-old girl raged.

_I'll show them. I'll show them I'll show them illshowthemyouall_

Akira crouched down and poked her hands into the wet earth. The ants crawled up her arm, tracing tingling paths.

DISTORT.

She felt the pulsing nerves inside the ants and clapped her palms together. The pressure built up and released and the ants went still, the nerves exploding. She laughed.

DISTORT.

And they collapsed, one after the other.

DISTORT.

Snuffed out.

She felt powerful. Distort and kill.

"So, young Yoshiyuke? Any improvements with your quirk?" The man asked, wiping his face with the towel and laying it back on the desk.

Akira smiled happily. "Yes! I tried using it and it's so easy!"

"Really? Your nerve manipulation must be coming along… Hmm..."

"Yeah! I mean, look at this!" She pulled out a jar from her satchel. Ants crawled inside it, running up its walls, searching for a way out. A few corpses littered the floor. She had gotten bored during class.

The man gazed with interest at the jar as she placed it on the table. She pressed her palms together, and smiled, failing to notice the man's shock as all the ants inside the jar stopped moving. The lights flickered as his voice shook.

"How did you do that?"

"I just exploded them. It's really easy! If you want, I can do it for you too!"

"What?" he cried.

"I can feel you from here already, so I just need to concentrate, and then your pain is all gone! You won't feel anything anymore!"

"N-no. Just leave. And Yoshiyuke, don't use your quirk anymore. Please."

She frowned and left.

The next time she came, the receptionist said he was busy. And the next time.

DISTORT

It was a rainy night. Their small house was buffeted by winds and rain tore against the window. Akira sat poring over her books near the window, illuminated by a solitary lamp. Suddenly a small something thumped against the glass pane. She sprang up and looked outside to see a small huddled shape. Peering closer, she noticed the wet wings and the shivering frame. The window opened. The crow's black eyes were full of pain, its wing folded under it, as a dark liquid seeped from three thin lacerations on its side.

"Oh my god. You must be in pain..." She whispered, as she scooped the trembling thing into her hands and brought it in. "Let me try and help."

She focused, pressing her palms together, and felt that sharp tug inside of her. When she looked at it again, it was still. It had stopped its quivering. Akira's heart thumped loudly against her chest. She could see its eyes, boring into her, deep and yet absolutely empty.

"Mother!" Akira cried, running to her with the bird cradled in her arms. Her white eyes went wide.

"What happened?"

"I don't know! It was paining, it was paining it so much so I took it away. I didn't know what to do, that's what I do!" She garbled in a frenzy.

Her mother took it from her arms and pressed her palm to its forehead. She closed her eyes, and then looked up in a second. "Akira, what have you done?"

"What- what's the matter?" Deep inside her, she already knew.

"I can't feel anything from it. It still has a heartbeat, but it's dead. Most of its brainwaves have flatlined."

_It's dead. I killed it. I saw its eyes and then I killed it and then I saw its eyes again. _A rush. A realization. _I stole the life out of its eyes. _

_What HAVE I done?_

_The only people I will kill is them. They who left my father's name splattered over newspaper headlines and his blood splattered on the alleyway floor._

DISTORT

"Can I shift schools?" Akira asked, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

Her mother looked away from her phone, her glossy dark hair falling away from her face to reveal two perfectly pale white orbs. Akira gazed at the brown table mat as she opened her mouth. "W-what? You want to change schools? Why?" her voice said, but Akira could see the unseen questions. _Haven't I done enough? _

She bit her lip, fighting the urge to just go back up to her room and lose herself in another unreal world.

"I- I need to start over."

Her mother looked at her, her eyes scanning her daughter's face, yet she didn't speak. Everything had already been said.

"You still want to be a hero, don't you?" she asked, and maybe there WAS one thing left unsaid, this one thing which shook Akira so.

She tried to speak, but all she could manage was one curt nod, as her eyes stung. Her mother looked lost.

"I will talk to the principal about it."

"Here you go." The sheaf of papers cascaded onto the table.

Hinata Yoshiyuke forced her head up to meet her daughter's bright eyes. "What is this?"

"Papers. To change our name," Akira said.

Hinata was always tempted to wonder how Akira had managed to get her hands on these, but she had learnt not to ask.

"All you need to do is sign," said Akira, suddenly assertive.

Hinata took a deep breath and picked up the pen

It was never nice, to sit alone at a lunch table. Akira picked at her food uneasily, glancing around at the people who sat talking in loud noisy, and oh so intimate groups. The summons, when it came, felt like a release.

"Yoshiyuke!" Her homeroom teacher strode up to her. "The principal is calling you."

"Okay, Tsujimoto-sensei," Akira said, as she got up, food forgotten. She knew what this call was for, and resisted the urge to break out into a run and release a high exhilarated laugh. Nevertheless, her steps quickened and her arms trembled at her sides. Students shot glances at her and she heard hushed murmurs. She was almost happy. They were afraid of her and her villainous quirk, and she didn't care. She felt such power. She was going to go away from this school. She was going to go somewhere where nobody knew her, where she could rid herself of the name Yoshiyuke forever. She felt a momentary sadness at this, but all was lost in the sheer joy of the now. She was, she promised herself, going to eradicate the villains. After all, wasn't that what heroes did?

She teetered on her toes as Principal Nagasawa told her about the transfer, as he explained, slightly befuddled, the name change which was going to go onto the certificate. She only heard the last words he said.

"So from tomorrow onwards, you may cease attending this school."

Tomorrow! Tomorrow she would make her way into a foreign new land. Tomorrow she would start over. Tomorrow. A blank slate she could scribble on to her heart's content.


	3. 2 Drag your past on a weighty chain

CHAPTER TWO | Drag your past on a weighty chain

"**Good little children shouldn't judge people by their quirks."**

_**-Excerpt from **_**Quirks and Us**_**, a children's book by Shoowaysha **_

Shinsou Hitoshi was tired, and for the first time, it wasn't because of his insomnia. 7 years. It had been seven years since his quirk manifested. Now he was twelve, and it wasn't enough to get rid of that thin undercurrent of fear hidden behind people's masks whenever he talked to them. His friends continued talking to him, true, but now he wasn't sure if it was because of fear or friendship. 7 years. Seven years of not using his quirk to reassure people he would use it for good. Seven years trying to be seen as a hero. Seven years of it not working. Seven years, and he was tired.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, his purple hair casting shadows over his face as Kurori Sensei introduced the new pupil. Idly, he wondered how long it would take for her to be afraid too.

"So, Miyabe will be joining us from today," Kurori Sensei finished. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Miyabe?" Hitoshi looked at Miyabe with interest. She was a tall girl, but her slouch seemed to make her curl in on herself, making her seem like a smaller person altogether. Dark, unruly curls shielded eyes which hopped from one thing to another with a fervent, strangely frantic, excitement. She was painfully thin, skeletal jaw, bony and all sharp, abrupt angles. Her fingers fiddled with each other, not nervously, but with startling ferocity. She looked weightless, dancing on the tip of her toes as if a stray gust of wind would cast her to the skies, where she would take flight.

"Um, hi," Miyabe said, and then she cleared her throat. "I'm- my name is Yo-Miyabe Akira." Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at the slip that caused her black eyes to widen with _terror?_ "Y-yeah. So I'm joining you here. Please take care of me." She bowed clumsily.

"What's your quirk?" A girl called out.

"Uh- yeah. I should say that. I- my quirk is called Distortion. Theoretically, I can manipulate people's nerves."

"Theoretically?"

"I can't do that yet," she stated blandly. The class collectively frowned. It was strange at their age, to not have control of one's quirk.

Miyabe turned and made her way to an empty seat in the back, right next to him, of course. Her bag was discarded onto the floor, where it landed with a light thump. She sat down, looked to her right, at the blank wall, then to her left, where he sat. Hitoshi turned back towards the board.

The lunch bell echoed throughout the classrooms. The students swept out of the classroom, leaving open notebooks and scattered pencils in their wake. Hitoshi slouched after them, his hands in his pockets. The cafeteria was crowded when he got there. Students buzzed and chattered, their voices melding together into a strange kind of music. Hitoshi eyed a particularly large group clustered around the new girl. Peering through cracks in the walls of bodies Hitoshi glimpsed her startled face, looking for all the world like she wasn't used to this in the least. Then he remembered her stumbling introduction like she was backing away from some kind of fence between her and the class which didn't even really exist.

He turned to walk away, trying to ignore that itching feeling in the base of his skull. He wasn't supposed to be curious, dammit! _Shut it Shinsou, pull yourself together!_ But some inexplicable pull drew him to the group of students that surrounded the girl, and in minutes he found himself wedged inside the inner circle, leaning forward curiously as the girl tried to answer the volley of questions. Some students noticed him, and instinctively turned their bodies away from him, and pursed their lips shut. He couldn't blame them. By now, it was probably ingrained into their muscle memory.

"It's strange, you know!" A high pitched voice broke through his inner monologue. He glanced to his left, and sure enough, there sat Minami Rinka, a smirk splayed across her face. "By now, you should be able to use your quirk properly, shouldn't you?"

Miyabe turned, her face shadowed and spoke loudly. "I can't." Her voice sliced through the sudden silence like a knife through butter. She looked back at the ground, suddenly self-conscious. "I can't because technically I can only manipulate the nerves on people. And they- they don't let me practise. It'll hurt them." Murmurs broke out as people glanced towards each other as if trying to divine some other meaning from her word. "It'll hurt them," she said. "Like they did the bird." The last part was mumbled and Hitoshi had to crane his neck to hear it.

That didn't make sense. "What do you mean?" Hitoshi asked. The group hushed. Minami turned back towards Miyabe, shot him a look, and then opened her mouth.

"What _Shinsou_ here means is- why would it hurt people? It's not a villain's quirk is it?" she said, smiling sourly.

Miyabe turned ashen pale and pushed herself out of the chair. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. She stumbled her way to the door and left, the door slamming behind her.

The tension in the room cleared.

"Shinsouuu," Minami crooned. "You shouldn't be asking questions. It's scaary!"

Hitoshi turned away, a frown etched on his brow. "You shouldn't be such an ass," he bit back, and then stalked away, two of his so-called friends calling after him.

He let a hand drift through his purple hair, to that incessant buildup in his skull, and he scratched.

It was when he was leaving school that he heard soft broken sobs. Rounding the corner of the corridor, he saw Miyabe curled up in the window frame. Tears spilt out of the corner of her eyes and she was grinning. Little gurgled laughs escaped her mouth.

She looked up as Hitoshi walked toward her, probably recognising him from the afternoon.

"How did you know? Again?" She asked, choking on her sobs.

"Again?"

"I was h-happy. But you called me a villain! How did you know? I even- I even-" The girl started bawling, her body trembling like some great weight was collapsing in on her.

Hitoshi frowned. There was something he was missing here, some puzzle piece that explained all her reactions. But right now- right now the problem in front of him was this picture of distress. He crouched down next to her.

"Um." How did you comfort someone? He settled for the truth. "It wasn't you that they were calling a villain, it was- uh well- me."

The girl blinked. "You?" she laughed. "They call you a villain?"

"Yeah. Behind my back mostly, but weell – for someone who's supposed to be an empath, Minami doesn't know how to be that subtle," he chuckled, his throat dry.

"Why?" The question was blunt and brutally precise. It felt like a slap in the face.

"Well, probably cause of my quirk, I guess," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Miyabe frowned. "What is your quirk then?"

"It's called Brainwashing. Uhhh- basically if people answer me, I can mind control them."

"Oh."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

"What difference does that make?" Miyabe asked, cocking her head to one side. Hitoshi's eyes widened imperceptibly.

"What?"

"Well, with whatever quirk you have, what matters is what side you're on in the end, right?"

"Sides?" Hitoshi frowned. "Well, I suppose so. But that's not what most people think."

"Most people are fools," Miyabe retorted, her words sour.

Akira trotted along behind the purple-haired boy, her hands clasped behind her back. People gave them looks as they passed corridors, but she didn't particularly care. It had been a long day, and she had made more than a few slips. And still… she had still made a friend. A bond.

She wasn't sure if she could call the boy her friend since she didn't even know his name. But she knew his quirk, and somehow that was even better. A million questions ran through her mind, but even that didn't erase the wide smile stretched across her face, which for the first time in years, reached her shadowed eyes.

She turned towards the boy who looked like he could fall asleep at any time.

"Hey."

He turned towards her, eyebrows raised. "What is it this time?"

"What do people call you?"

"What do- you mean my name, right?" Akira shrugged. "It's Shinsou. Shinsou Hitoshi."

Shinsou. She added the name to the little collection in her head. "Okay, well then, Shinsou Hitoshi." She turned towards him. "I owe you one."

"W-what?" Akira's voice wobbled.

"I'm sorry, Miyabe. I'm afraid we haven't found any proper volunteers for training your quirk yet. If we could- we would use animals, but you've already told us that their systems are hard to gauge, so..."

"But… you quirk counsellors are supposed to help me! That's your job isn't it?"

"We can't put people in danger, Miyabe," the woman said gently, pushing her glasses up her nose. "You have enough control over your quirk, don't you?"

Akira paused. She remembered the line of ants falling like a stack of dominos, a perfect chain reaction. She remembered the bird, quivering on her window sill, then dead, its eyes like empty black holes. Oh, she had control over her quirk all right. Just not over her emotions.

The woman's words swirled around Akira's head, like a thousand surgical daggers cutting her. _Unstable quirks should not be tampered with. _They struck with precision since they knew exactly what would hurt the most.

"Stop," Akira spat out. She bowed her head. "I understand. _Arigato._"

She turned around swiftly and left the room. She walked home in a daze, yet everything was so real. The weightless feeling she had for the last few days was gone gone gone. She felt so utterly grounded. Her throat felt scratchy, and she swallowed, blood rushing into her ears. She could hear the ground crunching below her feet, her heart thudding against her chest. She felt so completely aware of every cell in her body, and she hated it. It was only when she reached home and slammed the door behind her did she allow her rigid muscles to relax, let a gasp of air escape from her throat. Her lungs ached. There was a strange rope strung near her heart, pulled tight, wound along the edges of her thoughts. She tugged it experimentally, and tears ran down her face.

Maybe it was her gloom that pulled the rainclouds into a swirling mass above her neighbourhood. Her sadness that sent the rain crashing down. The water thrashed against the windows as Akira sat at the dining table. She lay sprawled all over it, her mind too tired to sit up, or do anything without support.

She heard the creaking of the chair as it was pulled back, and there was suddenly a warm hand on the back of her neck.

"Akira," a voice said, a voice filled with so many mesmerising layers to it, a voice she could lose herself in.

"M-mom?"

"Sit up now. Don't cry," the voice continued, and she felt her head being lifted until she was looking at the fan as it spun in hypnotising circles above her. A soft palm pressed against her forehead and Akira closed her eyes.

"Now, what happened today?" She felt the probe extend within her, gauging her emotions, pleasant and slightly ticklish.

"They said I couldn't practice my quirk on people." Her mom frowned, and she felt the wave of emotions within her turn sour, and then the smile was back, and everything was all right all right all right, and the last thing she saw before the warmth surrounded her were her mom's white eyes.

"Now, you just have to find someone who'd be willing to practice with you, right?"

Akira looked at Shinsou across the cafeteria table after he had been unwillingly dragged there by her. She looked back at her bento, and bit her lip. Shinsou's eyes flickered up.

"Whatever you want to say, just spit it out." His sharp voice cut through to her.

"Yeah." She swallowed and then blurted out the next words. "Shinsou, would you brainwash me?"


	4. 3 Fly among the clouds

CHAPTER THREE| Fly among the clouds on wings made of faith

"**No matter what you want to accomplish, you must have conviction and desire."**

_**-Stain | Chizome Akagure**_

"B-brainwash?" The word felt foreign in Hitoshi's mouth.

"I mean, yeah..." Miyabe said. "Like, do you really know the limits of your own quirk? What can you even make a brainwashed person do? Can they talk? Can they surpass their own physical abilities? Do you take control of like, the entire brain or just hijack the nerves coming from the brain to the body? If you tell somebody, to like, dodge moves if they have a speed quirk, can they think for themselves? I guess they can think for themselves up to some point; since they have to interpret the commands..." She paused for a breath. Hitoshi stared at her.

"What?" he said, finally.

Miyabe drew in a breath. "Oh. I'm just interested in your quirk, I guess. The technicalities are fascinating, really…"

"I don't know very much about my quirk, I suppose," Hitoshi shrugged. "People don't like me brainwashing them."

"That's what I wanted to ask you about," Miyabe said, clenching her fists. "Can you practice with me?"

Hitoshi frowned. "Why?"

"Are you going to be a hero or a villain?" Miyabe said.

"Uh?" Hitoshi sighed. "A hero?!"

"Yeah- me too!" Hitoshi briefly reflected on his life choices that brought him to share an ambition with this strange girl. "So I was thinking, we both need to improve on our quirks, right? So if we could practice together, both of us would improve!"

"Uh." Hitoshi looked around him. Most students had already finished eating and were streaming out of the cafeteria like flour from a torn packet. He ran his fingers through his hair, and his fingers found that itching skull.

Akira bobbed on the balls of her toes, pressing her nails into the skin on her fingers as Shinsou stood opposite her. It was already evening, and the park lamps cast a dim circle of light over the two.

"Okay, so would you want to try it now?" Akira asked, smiling widely.

"I don't know," Shinsou said, rolling his eyes. In contrast to his partner, his muscles were terse and he wasn't smiling. Hesitant, he ventured. "So, I'm going to say something now, and you're going to respond, alright?"

"Sounds good." Akira nodded, and Shinsou smiled and the white fog was everywhere and everything and she felt her eyes rolling up into the back of her head, and she was flying out of her body. She didn't try to struggle and just watched as her body danced brokenly like a puppet on strings. It was calm and peaceful, and she watched Shinsou give her body commands until-

"Alright, why don't you sing?" Her body remained silent, her voice robbed of sounds.

"Okay, and out," Shinsou said, and Akira was flying back into her body, and she felt a risening nausea as her claustrophobia kicked in. "Oh god."

"You okay?" Shinsou started forward but the girl was already staggering to her feet, a smile stretched across her face.

XOXO

"I don't think you can speak under my command," Hitoshi mused, and Miyabe nodded.

"Well, now can I use my quirk on you?" Miyabe grinned, and Hitoshi numbly nodded.

Miyabe breathed in and made to bring her palms together, and then she frowned. It was like there was something wrong about it, something she shouldn't do, something in her brain screaming at her to stop stop stop.

"What's the matter?" Hitoshi asked.

"I don't think I should do it the usual way," Miyabe said, and then she pressed her fingertips against each other.

**DISTORT.**

And Hitoshi was on the ground, his every muscle exploding into mind-numbing pain, a thousand insects burrowing into his bones, his eyes exposed to unbearably bright light and a high pitched screaming in his ears. All his senses were on fire, and it burnt everything burnt and then it was over, and the streetlights were flickering as he threw up onto the pavement, taking shaky shuddery breaths.

"You're alive," a voice said, and he turned his head to look at the girl standing with her arms folded across her chest, her hair rippling into the wind.

"What the-" Hitoshi spat out the blood in his mouth, "-fuck was that?"

"It's better than it was."

"Than it was? What was it before? Death? Because this came pretty damn close!"

Miyabe nodded, and Hitoshi stared at her in disbelief. "I told you. I can't control it. The trigger used to be clapping my hands together, but that broke all the nerves and now I just pressed my fingertips together, and well... you didn't die, so I think that was a start."

"B-break all the nerves? Nevermind."

"I can only do it on one person though," Miyabe piped up. "Only one at a time."

Hitoshi tried to ignore the fact that she already knew so much about her quirk. "W-wait. This time you pressed all five fingers together right?"

Miyabe drew in a sharp breath that shredded through her teeth.

XOXO

Hitoshi was thirteen now and Hitoshi was annoyed. Despite their ample evening training sessions at that desolate dimly lit park, Akira loved to badger him at school. Over the course of one year, she had somehow considered him a close enough friend to bother with her insanely hyperactive attitude. A month in, she had demanded he call her by her given name with a barely concealed desperation.

_Shinsou, could you brainwash me to stay awake in class?_

_Shinsou, can you brainwash me to study for this test?_

_Shinsou, can I show you this cool new book that I bought?_

Meanwhile, that bitch Minami giggled behind her hand as they talked, whispering something like 'the alliance of villains'. Minami had only transferred into Nabu a year or so back, yet she had built herself a nest of friends. She had everything. Looks, intelligence, and a useful quirk.

Akira, on the other end of a spectrum, was a gangly teenager, neither here nor there, with a dangerous quirk and a brain that was sometimes brilliant and sometimes so laughably odd. She had taken to following him around like a puppy.

That was why he was no less surprised when she turned up outside the door as he walked out of the optional 'Quirk Study' class. Knowing her nature, he was surprised she hadn't taken it, but she had waved away his inquires with an air of practised ease. Now, Akira was biting her lower lip as she fiddled with her fingers.

"What is it this time?" Hitoshi asked, sighing.

"You also want to get into Yuuei, right?" Akira asked like it wasn't obvious already.

"Yeah, isn't it like the best?" Hitoshi cocked his head to the side.

"Apart from Shiketsu," Akira said automatically. "Apart from Shiketsu," Hitoshi agreed. "But Yuuei has more prestige, and besides Shiketsu is kind of far away from here, while Yuuei is right here, in Musutafu."

"Yeah, so about that. I might have learnt that the Yuuei entrance exam is more favourable to people with like, physical type quirks."

"What do you mean?" Hitoshi frowned.

"It's against robots," she blurted out.

How did she know this? Thinking back, he remembered every time Akira had supplied him with information that, try as he might, he simply could not find anywhere else.

"-need to train," Akira finished.

"I'm sorry what? I wasn't listening," Hitoshi said, trying his best not to seem rude. Akira didn't seem to mind.

"We need to up our physical strength, we can't always rely on our quirks, right? Think of Eraserhead, isn't he your favourite hero?"

Hitoshi scoffed. All it took was one visit to his house, and Akira had gotten it into her head that Eraserhead was his favourite. All because of one poster on his wall. He couldn't just take down that poster, it was really hard to track down the underground hero's merch, and he had to stand in line for day- okay, so maybe he liked Eraserhead a little.

"When Eraserhead erases quirks, he just evens the playing field a little. He essentially fights quirkless, doesn't he?"  
Hitoshi turned away, quirking an eyebrow. "You mean you want to train."

XOXO

Hinata Yoshiyuke did not know where she had gone wrong. Akira was growing apart from her, swaying like she always loved to do, in preparation for flight. That night where she had pushed her emotions onto her daughter stayed fresh in her mind, that night where she had fed Mesmer into her voice and made her think. It was all for her dream, wasn't it? It had been two years since Akira had told her about it and she had done everything. She had ripped away her accursed husband's name like a scab and over the wound, Miyabe had formed. Or was her own free will just an illusion? Even the name Miyabe reminded her or Akira, her dancing eyes as she fed in her ambitions into Hinata until they became her own.

She heard footsteps outside, and pushed herself off the sofa, muting the news on the television. Moments later, Akira stole in, closing the door softly.

"Akira," Hinata said softly. Akira whirled around, and let out a breath when she realised who it was.

"Kaa- san. How was work." Akira said flatly. It wasn't a question.

A flash of hurt crossed Hinata's eyes. "I thought you needed to train your quirk."

Akira stared at her for a second, and then her lips quirked up, and before Hinata knew it, Akira had thrown her head back and had started to laugh. "That was a year back, Kaa san! A year! I already have started training my quirk, Mother! I can do it much better now."

"Didn't you need my help?" Hinata breathed. "I was here for you! How did you train all by yourself?"

"I had a friend, mother! A friend?"

"You endangered the life of someone when-"

"Endanger?" Akira gave a breathless laugh. "Mother, don't you trust me?"

The words struck her like a hammer. She looked down at the ground. She thought of the times Akira would vanish and not tell her anything. Unexplained occurrences. The fact that she had been training for an entire year and hadn't told her anything. So she looked down at the ground and said in a very small voice. "No, Akira, I don't."

And when she looked up, Akira was gone and the echoes of the slammed door filled the hall.

XOXO

"Hitoshi! Time for dinner!" With a sigh, Hitoshi unfurled himself from the bed and walked downstairs. Plates of steaming food were already placed on the dining table, and his mother and father were seated.

His mother glanced at him as he took a seat, and then they all began to eat. Dinner was a clinical affair. They hardly spoke, apart from soft murmurs to _pass the salt_. The only other sound was the soft clink of cutlery. Hitoshi's father cleared his throat. "So, Hitoshi. How was school today?"

"Good." Hitoshi shrugged his shoulders non-committally before looking back at his food. His father nodded, satisfied.

When he was done, he made a move to get up, but his mother shook her head and gathered up the plates, retreating into the kitchen. The gurgle of water broke the heavy stagnant air. Hitoshi was shaken out of his daze and he got up, following his mother. His mother had her back to him, entirely focussed on rinsing the plates.

"Mother. Can I help?"

His mother didn't respond, so he went closer, trying to find some way he could help.

"Hitoshi, you can go back to your room." It was an order. Hitoshi's shoulders slumped.

"Alright," he said, as he turned and left, and the unsaid words hung even heavier.

XOXO

_You can go back, Akira. I trust you._

Akira stumbled down the alleyway, her head spinning. It was memory that led her through the labyrinth of streets, a map ingrained deep inside her subconscious. Inwards and inwards still, till the houses were stacked upon each other like a big heap of groaning cards, and the walls pressed in around her like some bondage. The gouges dug into the walls grew bigger, deeper, until they had memories, trailing claw marks and hisses of steel. Traders shuffled out of her way, shifting on their blankets. Their eyes felt like the gaze of a thousand insects.

At the far end of the street, an unassuming wooden door was set into the wall. To the untrained eye, it would look worn with age, but Akira knew for a fact that it was replaced every week, and had many quirks hammered into the wood. The old woman sewing next to it gave her a look, and a smile, and the door swung open.

The man in purple was facing away from her, but when the door shut with a click, he turned and raised an eyebrow. His eyes glimmered with excitement behind his spectacles.

"Ah Akira," said Giran. "You're back."

XOXO


End file.
